


Let's Face the Unfamiliar

by flonkertons



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Established Relationship, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-02
Updated: 2015-06-02
Packaged: 2018-04-02 14:33:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4063519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flonkertons/pseuds/flonkertons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He loves that Clarke is a spy and everything, but look, sometimes he just wants a night in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let's Face the Unfamiliar

**Author's Note:**

> massive thanks to katherine for talking through this general premise with me even though we were talking about a different ship (if i could write the other ship, i'd so do it!) 
> 
> essentially this fic is, as i described it: "au where CLARKE is a SUPER SPY and bellamy is her normal bf who just wants a normal dinner at home instead of being picked up in secret vans after you finish a mission, HONEY!!!!"
> 
> title is from every single day's "take my hands"

He's known Clarke was some high-level spy for years now because Clarke's an incredible liar with everyone else but him.

Okay, also (mostly) because she had limped into his apartment one night with blood running down her face and after he had frantically fixed her up as best he could (with help from her labored instructions) and she had passed out on his bed (he never was able to get those blood stains out and had had to buy new everything the next day), he had sat by her bedside unable to sleep, unable to do anything but let his mind run wild about what the hell Clarke had gotten herself into. The next morning, she had tried to leave without an explanation, but he had refused to move from the door until she had given him _something_ to go off of. (In retrospect, she was very capable of kicking his ass and _making_ him move, but she didn't, thankfully.)

Then, the story came out and he found out that his friend was not just some traveling saleslady (which definitely explained the destinations), but was some super spy who did anything and everything, including infiltrating palaces, disarming bombs, and apparently get into "scuffles" (her word) that had left her with that gash the night before.

It took a few days to really wrap his mind around it and then she was away for a few more days, which only left him in an even more frenzied state of worry about her, but she returned without a scratch on her (except the existing one) and he told her he was cool with it. And that it was kind of hot. She hit him for that last one, but it was true. He wrote _textbooks_ for a living, but Clarke Griffin was a _spy_. That was just a built in level of hot.

He made her promise to at least let him know when she'd be leaving for a mission and to check in with him when she returned because he was a worrier by heart and this was like, _major_ worry-level news.

But honestly, it was mostly really cool because she always had stories to tell him and she taught him self defense tactics and sometimes, she'd let him listen in on a wire if nothing important was being divulged. Bellamy was pretty sure it was illegal, but he wasn't the spy and Clarke never seemed to be concerned. He followed her example. (Mostly. He was still a worrier at heart.)

And even when they started dating (it was inevitable, wasn't it, and how could he not kiss her when she finally returned from a 10-day mission in some place he couldn't even remember because all he had gotten was one static-filled phone call where she had told him that she loved him and she was sorry that this was how she was telling him because she had it all planned out but now it was all fucked up – and he had gotten nothing after that when the line went dead, so yeah, it was impossible not to kiss her, not to murmur _I love you, I love you, but don't fucking ever do that to me again_ when she knocked on his door), it was still really cool, because he had a _spy girlfriend_.

And then he realized what having a spy girlfriend really meant, aside from the really cool shit he had already experienced.

It's just that sometimes he would really, really like to stay in and order takeout, instead of being whisked away in a secret van to a secret location after a secret mission.

 

*****

 

"Hi," she says when he steps out of the dark stairway leading up to the roof. She's standing in front of a table that's decked out with their nice china and candles and their nice tablecloth, in her simple black dress and her hair curling over her shoulders, and she looks amazing and his clothes are all rumpled from the toss into the van (honestly, it's like they never listen to his complaints), but she crooks a finger at him, smiles, and he loves her all over again.

"Hey," he murmurs against her mouth after he's kissed her, long and hard, missed her far too much. "How was Singapore?"

"Great, but next time, let's go together without the spy stuff," she answers, tugging at the ends of his curls. _It's too long_ , he can hear her think, and he ducks his head down for another kiss when he hears a crackle of noise.

He rears his head back, narrows his eyes. "Are you on comms right now?"

She blinks, then quickly rips the earbud out of her ear, tosses it on the table. "Sorry, I was in a rush."

"I still remember the last time this happened," he points out because he probably will never forget the moment he realized that two other spies, Harper and Monty, had accidentally caught the beginning of their reunion sex. Sometimes, he still has nightmares about the sharp _buzz_ that had signaled the cutting of the connection in the earbud.

Clarke laughs, pushes him down into a chair. "I don't especially want to relive that embarrassment, so it won't happen again," she says, running a hand through his hair before sitting down across from him.

"Who's the one who's into public sex?"

"Who's the one who never disagrees when I ask you to fuck me in your office?"

"You take your shirt off as soon as you shut the door!"

"It takes two to tango."

"You start the tangoing."

"I can tell you really hate it," she says with a slight smirk, leaning forward – and he knows this is deliberate – so that he can see right down her dress. "How was your day?"

He glare but links their fingers together, knows he'll end up fucking her on this roof, probably on this table (after they've set aside all the fancy plates safely) and love it because he loves her. His life's a mess but at least he has Clarke with him. "Very boring, missed you a lot, Octavia dragged me to another cake tasting –"

"I missed another cake tasting?" She sounds genuinely despondent, but he doesn't blame her because Lincoln has a radar for best bakeries in town and it definitely works out in their favor.

"I saved you some cake in the fridge, don't worry."

Clarke shoots him a grin. "You aren't so bad, Blake."

"I do try," he says dryly, right before the door that leads up to the roof kicks open. He turns around quickly, and three people stumble through the door, dressed in all black and he's going to have a heart attack at the age of 29.

"Guys!" Clarke hisses, untangling their fingers so that she can cross her arms in irritation. "We practiced this! It was supposed to be ten minutes in!"

His heart rate slows down a little once he finds out she knows them.

"Miller pushed me!" One of the guys explains quickly.

"I did not, Wells said it was time so I _urged_ you along –"

"We're so sorry, Clarke. I read my watch wrong," Wells says sincerely. "Hey, Bellamy."

Bellamy recovers his voice long enough to mumble a greeting. Wells is Clarke's partner, and one of them is Monty (there's that embarrassment again), and the other one is Miller, who's had to babysit Bellamy a few times when his worrying gets out of control. If he had to pick, he'd say he's closest with Miller, but he doesn't make it a habit of hanging out with her spy colleagues because they already know more about him than he knows himself and it's just a bit annoying when they spoil anniversary plans for the third time because they monitor his spending habits out of "concern for Clarke."

Clarke heaves a long suffering sigh. "Just... bring out the food please. And go away after?"

Monty salutes her and Wells and Miller nod. After they bring out the food (including his favorite pasta dish from their favorite place downtown), Clarke looks at him with apologetic eyes, apologetic lines in her frown. "They will honestly be gone after this. I had this all planned out and –"

"Your plans kind of suck," he teases and she scrunches her nose at him but doesn't take it as an insult. They both know Clarke's track record with plans (3 out of 14).

"I put a lot of thought into them!" She asserts and her indignation makes him get up and kiss her all over again. He doesn't really need a reason, though. He just likes kissing her.

"You like it?" Clarke asks a bit breathlessly as she holds onto his wrists as he cups her face with his hands. He kisses her again and she sucks on his bottom lip before she lets him go. He can't stop smiling.

"What do you think?"

"I think..." she starts, pressing her forehead against his, "I think you need to fuck me right now."

He nearly falls over, catching himself at the last minute before he slips. His mouth flaps open for a few seconds before he ends up saying, stupidly, "But the food?"

She cocks her head at him. He's an idiot, basically. Fortunately, Bellamy's great at recovery. "I mean, yes. Yes, I can do that." Clarke laughs, pulling on his collar, fingers already flying over the top buttons of his shirt. She slips her hand inside, traces his collarbone and he flutters his eyes shut, lets himself enjoy her touch.

"I missed you," she says as she unbuttons two more buttons with one hand, slowly, her other hand following the path of the open shirt. "It sucks being away from you."

"Me too, Clarke," he manages, swallowing the wave of _missing her_ he had repressed the past few days. She reaches the last button, then all but rips the shirt off, leaving him in just his undershirt. "We've really got to figure out a better schedule," he says before tugging her against him, pressing her close to him, his hand splayed out at the small of her back. She kisses him immediately, directing him back until he's back in his chair, her straddling him, his hands on her thighs, under her dress, tracing circles against her skin. She grinds down on him at the same time as he unzips her dress, pushing the top down her chest, revealing his favorite lacy black bra and he thanks every deity he can think of in two seconds. He thanks three more when Clarke pushes his head down in her tits with one hand, the other going back behind her to unclasp the bra.

He takes back all those thanks when the door bursts open again, all three of them again, Monty and Wells with hands covering their eyes, Miller with his back to them, as Wells yells, rushed and panicky. "Clarke – shit, sorry, uh, we have to go in, there's been – we gotta go."

Bellamy slumps back in the chair, not even able to feel embarrassed right now, as Clarke jumps up from his lap (this is the worst part of it all), fixes her bra (another awful part), zips her dress back up (terrible), pulls her hair back and adopts what he calls her game face. She looks back remorsefully at him, kisses him deeply.

"I am so sorry," she says with a grimace.

He reaches for her hand, kisses her knuckles. "Go save the world, honey."

Clarke kisses him again, a quick one this time, before heading back to her spy friends. "Miller, can you –"

"No problem," he says, walking towards Bellamy as she, Wells, and Monty head down.

"Hey," Miller says, lacking the awkwardness that Bellamy assumes should accompany this moment.

"Hey," Bellamy says back. "Gin Rummy?"

Miller pulls out a deck of cards from his pocket. It's standard routine at this point. "Best 2 out of 3?"

"You're going down."

 

*****

 

After Miller drops him off at home, helping him carry the food, the plates, the candles, and the nice tablecloth, he's left with nothing to do. The food's gone cold now and he doesn't really want to heat it up to eat. He really wanted to share it with Clarke. So he puts everything away, stashes the food in the fridge, and takes out the box of leftover cake samples.

He's yelling at late night wrestling (too lazy to change the channel even though he hates it) and eating a piece of black forest cake, flinging crumbs all over himself as he shakes his fork at the TV, when Clarke comes home. He turns his head, cake in his mouth, when the door opens, and she smiles apologetically at him.

"Hi," she whispers, closing the door behind her and falling back against it with a sigh. He waves a hand for her to join him on the couch and pushes his plate towards her.

She takes a bite out of the piece, then drops her head against his shoulder.

"That bad?"

"Had to avert a near-escape," she says. "I swear, I'm quitting one of these days."

He chuckles, kissing the top of her head. "You love it too much."

"I love _you_ more," she insists and he wraps his arm around her shoulder, pulling her back so that they're both falling into the cushioning of the couch.

"I love you getting to do what you love and you love this," he says firmly and she looks skeptical. It's not the first time they've had this conversation but she never seems to believe it for more than a few minutes.

"You're telling me it doesn't bother you when our dates get interrupted like that?"

"It's not _ideal_ , but it comes with the dating a spy thing," he shrugs.

"It doesn't bother you?"

"I just told you it's okay," he says. "Look, you're like the coolest girl I've ever known, even without the spy thing, and interruptions are so minor in this whole spy gig. You _bleeding_ is another thing." She scrutinizes him and when she believes him, she nods and reaches for another bite of the cake again. She eventually just takes the whole plate back with her when she settles under his arm.

"Maybe next time we'll stay in," she muses.

He gapes at her.

"That is what I suggest _every time_ ," he whines and she grins at him and flutters her eyes innocently.

He wrestles the cake away from her.

She elbows him in the stomach.

 

*****

 

This is the mental list he's made in his 2-year, 5-month, 3-week tenure as Clarke Griffin's boyfriend:

 

PROS OF DATING A SUPER SPY:

  * Coolest girlfriend ever
  * Way smarter than me and everyone
  * Exciting life
  * Can kick my ass
  * Can kick her terrible exes' asses
  * Really good at surprises
  * Good imagination
  * Can whisk me away in a helicopter for a date



  
  


CONS OF DATING A SUPER SPY:

  * The worrying
  * A lot of worrying
  * Been accidentally punched in the stomach too many times to count
  * Schedules hard to line up
  * Spy co-workers know everything about our relationship
  * Sometimes I just want a night in



  
  
The cons suck a lot, but it's _Clarke_ and nothing ever really sucks as much when he's with her.

**Author's Note:**

> Other things that have happened because of Clarke's spy life:
> 
> \- His proposal plan is ruined because someone (Miller) was too eager in keeping it a secret (this was more Bellamy's fault for willingly telling him about it).
> 
> \- His proposal is overheard by at least 15 agents because Clarke forgot to shut off the wire (this was somewhat Bellamy's fault for trying to be spontaneous in an attempt to fix the previous failure).
> 
> \- Their wedding present from the agency is a video of Clarke's spy friends telling their best story about what they've overheard of them on the comms.
> 
> \- Spies really like to call in "hey, remember when I saved you in (insert name of place here)" favors so that firstborns can be named after them.
> 
> \- Her boss now knows exactly how Bellamy likes his dirty talk.
> 
>  
> 
> I'm on tumblr at [bestivals](http://bestivals.tumblr.com) if you wanna talk!


End file.
